


Strippers and Handcuffs

by Dangit



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Pre-Slash, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangit/pseuds/Dangit
Summary: Getting arrested on his twenty-first birthday turns out to be the best thing for Sanji.





	Strippers and Handcuffs

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! It's been so long since I last posted, I'm so sorry!! But here to back up my apology is a short one shot to get back in the game. Hope you guys enjoy!

Before anything else, it should be mentioned that Sanji was strictly against Nami’s plans from the very beginning. He’s very aware of himself, and so he knows that a couple of beers and an empty stomach can take him very quickly to the blackout stage of drunk. He also knows that, while drunk, a _very_ different Sanji comes out.

A very honest, very wild, Sanji.

A Sanji with no inhibitions, no hesitations, and— _definitely—_ no filter.

Of course, he can’t lay all the blame on Nami, and not just because she’s a woman and, consequently, perfect; but because he made the choice. He was the one who knocked back drink after drink after drink, a decision he—now sober—deeply regrets.

Of course, he only regrets it because he’s currently half naked, handcuffed, and in the back of a squad car.

 

It all started three days ago inside the Baratie on a Wednesday morning, twenty minutes before opening time.

“Nami, I really appreciate this, but I just want a simple dinner.”

The beautiful red-head, Nami, stares at him incredulously. “A ‘ _simple dinner_ ’? Sanji, you’re turning _twenty-one_. The big Two One. Everything is legal now!”

“Not everything,” Sanji reminds her. He moves to set the second table and Nami follows him (not helping even though, technically, setting tables is her job).

“Oh, c’mon! You’re in college dude! You have a full time job, your own place, and even a 401K. Sanji, you need to loosen up a little.”

“I’m loosen. Loose? I can have fun without getting drunk,” Sanji says defensively.

“Not the type of fun I’m talking about,” Nami says. “Besides, you gave me complete artistic freedom over your party,” she reminds him.

“Because I know you are a great friend, and you will respect my wishes,” Sanji replies quickly. “My beautiful swan, please…don’t invite people I don’t know. Just…your beautiful girlfriend, maybe that guy Usopp from Chem, your sister…just a couple of people.”

“Do you know how sad it is that you have more fingers than people you know?” Nami says, staring at him with an exaggerated sad pout. “But fine. I won’t invite anyone you don’t know.”

 

To her credit, Nami kept her promise.

“Who are these people?” Sanji yells over the loud music. “Nami, I—.”

“I didn’t invite any of them!” Nami interrupts, laughing when Vivi almost trips over herself trying to grab another bottle of vodka from the other side of the kitchen island. “Luffy did!”

“You invited _Luffy_?”

Luffy. A cool guy, well-known around campus as the Headmaster’s grandchild. Everyone knew of the guy’s personal vendetta against everything his grandfather stood for: order and discipline. There was not one person on campus that didn’t know Monkey D. Luffy, and any time he was invited to a party, they turned out to be EPIC.

Sanji didn’t like the kid very much. Of course, he didn’t get invited to parties much.

“No, I invited Usopp like you told me, and Luffy just happens to be his roommate—.”

“Sanji, the birthday boy!” some stranger shouts, grabbing Sanji by the shoulders. Someone else shoves a red cup into his hand while people cheer and yell at him to ‘chug’. He glances at Nami, fully intending to giver her a stern look, but the beautiful smile on her face completely disarms him.

Having nothing else to do, he drinks.

And continues drinking.

He continues drinking until he can’t remember the reason why he doesn’t drink—i.e., until he’s completely hammered.

The loud music is suddenly not loud enough, strangers become life-long friends, and the alcohol just keeps coming as the night gets darker. His apartment is jam-packed, and a person cannot move without bumping into someone else, so of course the party spills outside.

And this is where it gets complicated. Because Sanji has two neighbors, one on either side. The wonderful couple to his left are a pair of doctors that work odd hours and are hardly ever home. However, the family to his right is headed by a very strong, very loud woman who likes making her opinions be heard, even when no one requests them. So, it is to no one’s surprise when there’s a knock on Sanji’s door.

“Law’s back with more beer!” Sanji yells to cheers, leaving the center of the party.

He opens the door.

Here, you must remember one of the effects alcohol has on poor Sanji: honesty. Unfiltered, unapologetic, honesty.

And that is important because, in this very moment, there is nothing from stopping Sanji—and every part of his body—from admitting that the guy in front of him is utterly, entirely, smoking hot.

Sanji’s mouth dries, his eyes locked to beautiful, hazel eyes and all he can do is just stare. Because really, how many times can a person truly stare at someone _this_ attractive? It’s almost like he’s _too_ handsome. And his eyes, are they really hazel? Or green? Or brown? And his lips, they look chapped. And now that he’s paying attention, they’re moving. He’s probably saying something.

“…from your neighbors,” the beautiful man says. “What’s your name?”

“Sanji,” he says quickly, perhaps too quickly. “It’s my twenty-first party. Birthday, I mean. Not party. First one of those,” he babbles and brings a hand up to his mouth to stop it. Cool it, Sanji.

The man frowns, and oh my god, he looks so serious. And so hot. “Yeah, well, there was a noise complaint.”

It is in that moment that Sanji notices what the guy is wearing, and not just _how_ he’s wearing it (tight in all the right places, by the way). Because covering those…gorgeous…mouthwatering…sinful muscles, is a uniform.

A police uniform.

And see, Sanji is a dedicated student. He promised his father a 4.0 average, and he’s delivered. And to him, the math is simple.

Hot guy + Police uniform = _stripper_.

“Sanji?”

“OH MY GOD!” Sanji exclaims happily, turning to beam at Nami. “You got me a _stripper_?”

And suddenly, everyone is there and the stripper is inside his home, looking quite lost. And everyone is touching him, pulling at his clothes, and that really isn’t fair because this is Sanji’s party, and he should have first dibs.

So obviously, he drags the stripper to his living room, sits him down, and proceeds to sit on his lap. If the process is a little backwards, who really cares?

“God, he’s so hot,” Sanji cheers, pushing the man down when he makes to sit up. “Thank you, Nami!”

“Sanji, I—.”

“Sir, I’m not—.”

“Wow, you’re so legit, too,” Sanji says, truly impressed by the badge and…wow, is that a gun? “This looks totally real!” he exclaims, grabbing the gun strapped to the guy’s waist. 

The following events don’t really have to be explained to understand why Sanji ended up on the back of a squad car, but let’s do so anyway.

Sanji fires the gun, which makes a really loud noise.

Sanji realizes that he’s holding a real gun.

Sanji realizes that the guy is not a stripper, but an actual cop.

Sanji realizes he’s sitting on the guy’s lap.

And finally, Sanji realizes he’s had way too much to drink.

 

That brings us to currently events :as Sanji sits and contemplates where his life when wrong, he takes a minute to note that the back of a squad car is a surprisingly comfortable place. Also, he’s very scantily clothed and it’s early March, so he’s very, very cold.

The driver’s door opens and the very hot, non-stripper policeman gets inside. Sanji, wisely, keeps his mouth shut and has to endure a short, but very awkward silence.

“Nami explained everything to me,” the cop says, twisting around to look Sanji in the face. “She’s also not twenty-one yet. Along with half the people inside your apartment.”

Things just went from worst to wors _er_. 

“Um, she didn’t buy any of the beer,” Sanji says honestly. He’s going down, but there’s no reason why Nami should get dragged along. “She did drink it, but c’mon, it was a party. And we didn’t expect for the cops to show up—not that we were doing anything illegal—other than the underage drinking, but really, there was like zero drugs, I mean at least that I knew of, but really, do I really know these people? I guess a little, but—.”

“You should stop talking right now,” cute cop says and Sanji really should stop calling him that. He sneaks a glance at the man’s name tag (noticing that the rumpled shirt is now back on and super tight still) and reads _Roronoa_.

“I babble,” Sanji explains. “When I’m drunk. And I’m really drunk.”

“I noticed,” Officer Roronoa says. He’s hot, but so stern. Now that fear has trumped the alcohol, Sanji can’t believe he was so forward.

One, this is a dude. 

Sanji still has trouble admitting his attraction to men, and it happens so rarely that really, does he really have to give it a name? He’s going to end up with a beautiful bride anyway, why does it matter if he sometimes, often, thinks about dudes?

Two, this guy is scary-looking.

And not in the cop way, but in the ‘look at me wrong and I might kill you’ way, which lately, it _is_ the cop way, but still—a different kind of scary. It looks like he was born incapable of smiling, his eyebrows sharp and scrunched up in a perpetual frown. It has a kind of appeal, but not when you’re sitting on a car with bars on the windows.

“This is what we’re going to do—.”

“Arrest me,” Sanji cuts in, dejected. “I know. I understand. But my friends didn’t do anything but try and give me an amazing party, and there’s no crime for that. And I’m sorry I thought you were a stripper, but really…that isn’t a crime either—but if we’re being honest here, you really shouldn’t wear your clothes so _tight_ , because you’re kind of hot? You know? And you give the wrong impression, especially with the way—.”

“I’m not going to arrest you,” Officer Roronoa interrupts. “But just so you know, next time, you should really exercise your right to remain silent.”

“You’re not arresting me?” Sanji says, surprised. “Really?”

“It was a house party, not a big deal,” the cop shrugs. “You guys weren’t being destructive, just noisy. And I really don’t want to bring you down to the station and have to explain to my Captain that I arrested you because you thought I was a stripper and fired my gun. So we’ll leave it at a warning.”

“Oh my god, thank you!” Sanji exclaims. “And again, I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve said that,” Officer Roronoa says, smirking. “But what I was trying to say was…we should exchange numbers.”

Sanji blinks, processes the words, then blinks again. “I’m sorry?”

Suddenly, the stern cop is gone and in his place is a kind of nervous, very cute, guy that just asked Sanji for his number. “So we can talk. You know, when you’re not wearing handcuffs.”

Sanji really should say no. The guy is hot, superbly so, but then again, he’s a _guy_. But Sanji is drunk, and it’s gotten him this far, so what’s wrong with riding it ‘till the end?

“Okay,” he answers, a little breathless.

Sanji blushes, drunk and very happy. The officer blushes, nervous but also very happy. And as they sit there, feeling very happy, no one realizes that this is the start of something special.

 

Other than Nami, of course, watching from Sanji’s front door.

“So that’s your friend from high school, Zoro?” her girlfriend asks, also watching the two guys with goofy smiles on their faces.

“I told you he’d be perfect for Sanji,” Nami says, smug.

“Yeah, but did you really have to call the cops on his party to prove it and get him almost arrested?”

“It was all part of the plan,” she shrugs. It wasn’t—but no one needs to know that.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.


End file.
